The One Where I Make Friends with and Old Polish Lady
I decided to fly to New Orleans for Halloween.
I had vague notions of immersing myself in legends of voodoo by day and the debauchery of Bourbon street by night. And mostly I did just that.
Flying home, however, didn't go as planned.
I'm an airline employee. I fly standby. If there are enough paying customers to fill the flight I pretty much just have to wait for the next one.
So I'm pretty much compulsively on my phone checking the number of available seats from about 48 hours out until they close the door.
Usually I'm able to plan things out okay. Sometimes my best laid plans go awry.
This was the latter situation.
I got to the airport around 10:30 am. And watched way too many planes take off to Houston without taking me with them. 10:30am, 11:15am, 1pm, 2:30pm, 4 pm. I was scheduled to work Sunday night and was pretty much (actually not pretty much, I was) out of money so staying in a hotel for another night wasn't in the cards.
So by the time I got to the gate for the 6:30pm flight I was anxious, and cranky from not eating since the morning, frustrated by the fact that none of the gates I was at seemed to have both power outlets and wi-fi, and just generally not in a good mood.
And this flight, which had earlier in the day looked like a sure thing was no longer a sure thing. It had 32 seats open, but there were 50 people in front of me on the list waiting for seats.
Crap.
And then they announced the flight was going to be delayed.
This didn't particularly bother me other than it meant I would be even later for work. But it got other people into a stir. Missed connections and all that.
As I sat there, bitching to my mom and boyfriend through text messages and searching for any other option for getting home on my iPad, a woman approached me.
She was old - probably 80 or so - frail, and wearing what my grandmother would have called a babushka (a head scarf). She also spoke very limited English.
"Can I borrow?" She asked, indicating my phone. "Need to call." She gestured to a piece of loose-leaf paper in her hand where someone had written out a list of phone numbers and addresses for her.
I'm not sure why she approached me. Maybe it was because I had my phone out in my hand, eliminating any doubt that I had one. Maybe it's because as a young female traveling alone I was less intimidating to approach.
"Sure," I responded.
She pointed to each digit as I dialed. The phone rang and I handed it over.
She had a conversation in a Slavic language of some sort, and handed me back the phone to hang up.
"Thank you," she said. Then she pointed at the address written next to the phone number. "I am going here."
I looked at and recognized it as the neighborhood the Goodwill I shop at is in. "It's nice there," I said,"Not very far from me."
"Houston is home to you?" she asked.
"For now," I answered, both not wanting to get into my whole life story, and not being sure how much she would understand anyway.
"I am seeing friend. I haven't seen she in many years. Many many," she explained.
We talked for awhile longer. I let her call her son who was back home so she could let him know about the delay. She expressed excitement at getting to see her friend and her friend's new grandbaby (the reason for her visit). Told me they had grown up together and her friend had moved to the US with their husband and how they wrote letters to each other but rarely saw each other. She said she was worried the flight would be cancelled and rob her of precious time with her friend.
Then they announced the plane was delayed again. I went up to the counter and asked the ticketing agent what my prognosis for getting a seat was and was told not good. So I booked a standby ticket on South West and explained to my new friend that I needed to leave.
She took my hand and told me I was very good and sweet to her, and wished me luck on my journey home. I wished her the same, abs trekked across the airport to check in for the flight I had just brought.
I did, then headed back to the original gate.
A third delay was announced. Now the plane would take off around 9.
However, this actually turned out well for me. A bunch of people would miss their connections in Houston and had to be rebooked for different flights. Soon I had a boarding pass with a confirmed seat on it in my hand. I cancelled the other ticket I had just bought and relaxed.
I looked around for the woman, but didn't see her. I hoped she had made out okay with her plans and buried my head back into my phone.
Later, when boarding the plane, I saw her again. She was seated as I headed towards the back.
She smiled at me and said, "Finally, we have made it."
I returned her smile and agreed, "Yes, finally we did."
I had vague notions of immersing myself in legends of voodoo by day and the debauchery of Bourbon street by night. And mostly I did just that.
Flying home, however, didn't go as planned.
I'm an airline employee. I fly standby. If there are enough paying customers to fill the flight I pretty much just have to wait for the next one.
So I'm pretty much compulsively on my phone checking the number of available seats from about 48 hours out until they close the door.
Usually I'm able to plan things out okay. Sometimes my best laid plans go awry.
This was the latter situation.
I got to the airport around 10:30 am. And watched way too many planes take off to Houston without taking me with them. 10:30am, 11:15am, 1pm, 2:30pm, 4 pm. I was scheduled to work Sunday night and was pretty much (actually not pretty much, I was) out of money so staying in a hotel for another night wasn't in the cards.
So by the time I got to the gate for the 6:30pm flight I was anxious, and cranky from not eating since the morning, frustrated by the fact that none of the gates I was at seemed to have both power outlets and wi-fi, and just generally not in a good mood.
And this flight, which had earlier in the day looked like a sure thing was no longer a sure thing. It had 32 seats open, but there were 50 people in front of me on the list waiting for seats.
Crap.
And then they announced the flight was going to be delayed.
This didn't particularly bother me other than it meant I would be even later for work. But it got other people into a stir. Missed connections and all that.
As I sat there, bitching to my mom and boyfriend through text messages and searching for any other option for getting home on my iPad, a woman approached me.
She was old - probably 80 or so - frail, and wearing what my grandmother would have called a babushka (a head scarf). She also spoke very limited English.
"Can I borrow?" She asked, indicating my phone. "Need to call." She gestured to a piece of loose-leaf paper in her hand where someone had written out a list of phone numbers and addresses for her.
I'm not sure why she approached me. Maybe it was because I had my phone out in my hand, eliminating any doubt that I had one. Maybe it's because as a young female traveling alone I was less intimidating to approach.
"Sure," I responded.
She pointed to each digit as I dialed. The phone rang and I handed it over.
She had a conversation in a Slavic language of some sort, and handed me back the phone to hang up.
"Thank you," she said. Then she pointed at the address written next to the phone number. "I am going here."
I looked at and recognized it as the neighborhood the Goodwill I shop at is in. "It's nice there," I said,"Not very far from me."
"Houston is home to you?" she asked.
"For now," I answered, both not wanting to get into my whole life story, and not being sure how much she would understand anyway.
"I am seeing friend. I haven't seen she in many years. Many many," she explained.
We talked for awhile longer. I let her call her son who was back home so she could let him know about the delay. She expressed excitement at getting to see her friend and her friend's new grandbaby (the reason for her visit). Told me they had grown up together and her friend had moved to the US with their husband and how they wrote letters to each other but rarely saw each other. She said she was worried the flight would be cancelled and rob her of precious time with her friend.
Then they announced the plane was delayed again. I went up to the counter and asked the ticketing agent what my prognosis for getting a seat was and was told not good. So I booked a standby ticket on South West and explained to my new friend that I needed to leave.
She took my hand and told me I was very good and sweet to her, and wished me luck on my journey home. I wished her the same, abs trekked across the airport to check in for the flight I had just brought.
I did, then headed back to the original gate.
A third delay was announced. Now the plane would take off around 9.
However, this actually turned out well for me. A bunch of people would miss their connections in Houston and had to be rebooked for different flights. Soon I had a boarding pass with a confirmed seat on it in my hand. I cancelled the other ticket I had just bought and relaxed.
I looked around for the woman, but didn't see her. I hoped she had made out okay with her plans and buried my head back into my phone.
Later, when boarding the plane, I saw her again. She was seated as I headed towards the back.
She smiled at me and said, "Finally, we have made it."
I returned her smile and agreed, "Yes, finally we did."